


Parallels

by Kahvi



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It stands to reason, Lister feels; if there was something that changed Ace into becoming... well... Ace, something could change him, too. In other universes, there would be other Listers. And other Rimmers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallels

Hardly acknowledging the hologram's existence, Ace brushed by Lister in the corridor. For a moment, the two of them almost overlapped, and Lister's edges flickered slighly, with an odd sort of tickling. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember what. Frowning, he watched the bakofoiled back retreat hurriedly, then stepped into the bunkroom. "I don't get it," he said.

On his bunk, Rimmer turned around, throwing a lazy stare Lister's way. Lister shuddered, inwardly. Even if Rimmer didn't mind having crumbs all over the front of his shirt, didn't he realize how it would make him look to others? How could an individual be so completely what?"

"Why doesn't he disgust you?"

Rimmer frowned. "Who; Ace? Why should he?"

"Because, let's face it, Rimsy; he's charming, talented, an officer, an obvious expert at personal grooming, handsome, clearly well-educated. Everything, in fact, that you are not."

"Get bent, Lister."

"No, but honestly." Taking a step inside, Lister caught a whiff of Ace's aftershave, which still lingered in the room. Strong. Powerful. Vibrant. Just like the man himself. He repressed a shudder. "Why aren't you bothered by the fact that there's a vastly superior version of you hanging around? Doesn't it make you want to strangle him?"

Rimmer snorted, settling back into what he for some reason seemed to consider a comfortable position, and threw another crisp into his mouth. "He's not better than me. He's just different."

"Different?" The scent of the aftershave made the image of the man that had just left the room all the more clear in Lister's mind. 'Different' indeed.

"Yeah, different. Like, he studied hard in school, and that. I was never all that bothered, ya know. I wanted to be an artist, but nothing ever came of it. He wouldn't have dropped out of art college. He's just..." Rimmer shrugged; more crumbs running down his front.

"Different?"

"Yeah. Why do you care, anyway?"

Lister narrowed his eyes. He resented the question, because he didn't have an answer to it. Thankfully, there was Rimmer to lash out at. "I'm just worried. Here you're given a living example of what you could have achieved if you'd only put your mind to it, and what do you do? You don't even bother to let it provoke your resentment! How do you ever expect to learn anything if you keep an open mind like that?"

Rimmer chuckled, watching the bunk above thoughtfully. "D'you know what the difference was? What made him turn out like that, and not like me?"

Ace had told him? Confided in that... that... space bum, and not in Lister? Did Rimmer look like the sort of person who could be trusted with personal confidences? Case in point, here he was, spilling the beans at the first presented opportunity. Lister snorted. "I'm assuming it was something smegging significant. He doesn't even have your ridiculous accent."

"That's 'cause he's not from Liverpool."

Lister blinked. "He's not?"

"No. He's from Io."

Lister's various simulated organs did their best to simulate a sinking sensation. "From Io?"

"Yeah. His parents never died, see. So he stayed on Io, rather than being sent to Earth with his adoptive parents."

"What a ridiculous idea." That totally irrational feeling of queasiness was rising in Lister's throat. "He couldn't possibly have gotten into flight school on Io, it's far too difficult."

"Well, he never said nothing about that, but guess what?"

Lister didn't want to guess what. He didn't want to guess anything at all. He'd come in feeling deliciously superior, basking in the knowledge that not only had Rimmer's pathological laziness been proven by the fact that someone in another universe had managed to overcome it, but this person, this interdimensional space-hero acted not a little like himself. Proving, thereby, that given the right opportunity, the right breaks in life, Lister might have become such a person himself. And now Rimmer was ruining it all with his stupid facts! "What?" He hissed, through clenched teeth.

"In his dimension, Lister, his Lister, right, is from Liverpool!" Rimmer's grin was wide enough to swallow a banana sideways, an act Lister wouldn't have put past him to try.

"Liverpool," Lister repeated. The word didn't seem to make any sense.

"Yeah. The way Ace explained it, in his universe, you got adopted by different parents. Ones that never emigrated to Io. You stayed in Liverpool, went to art college..."

"Art college??"

"Yeah, but you never finished. Anyway, the point is, we're all backwards, there. You're this laid-back, party-loving, charismatic guy. And I'm..." Rimmer waved a hand discreetly in Lister's direction. "Well... you."

Lister felt numb. It shouldn't matter. It wasn't this universe; not the real one. Not the important one. And yet... a Scouser Lister? A half-educated buffoon like - well - Rimmer? The idea disturbed him on levels he couldn't quite explain. He felt like he was standing on wobbly ground. He had to restore the balance somehow. There had to be... Ah. Yes, of course. "He'll have no chance of ever getting Kochanski, then, the bastard."

"Eh?" Rimmer, seeming finally to have noticed the beach of crumbs, had begun the time-consuming process of removing them from his person.

"This other Lister. There's no possible way a man like him could ever get a woman like her. And let's face it; if I couldn't get her into bed, there's no chance in hell he ever..."

"He did, actually," Rimmer interrupted, managing to sound annoyingly casual. Like he was correcting a weather report, or telling someone to mind the gap between the train and the platform.

"What?" Lister snapped.

"He and Kochanski dated, actually. Dunno fer how long, but Ace said she was all his Lister ever talked about. Dead set on getting her back, he was." Rimmer raised a teasing eyebrow. "So at least you've got that bit in common. Only, you know, he actually had her first."

"Smeg off, Rimmer." Lister felt like his head was on fire. A... a... slob of a man, with Rimmer's annoying voice and manners and standards of personal hygiene, and Kochanski had gone for him! Was she insane? What kind of bizzaro, upside-down world was Rimmer describing?

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to know!"

"I didn't want to know anything; I was merely trying to point out the good example Ace is setting for you, and imploring you to take actual notice of it!" Lister felt his voice rising, exploring the edges of its natural register. He always tried to speak in low, manly tones, but emotion was taking him over. "I mean, look at the way he dresses! He's even a better homosexual than you are!"

Rimmer rolled his eyes. "I've told you time and time again; it's not about what ya wear or how ya act; it's about who ya want to drag into bed!"

Lister glared. "You're just afraid of being properly gay, that's your problem." Not once had Rimmer tried to come on to him. Not once! And while, on the one hand, Lister was happy to have survived years of bunking with a gay man without being molested, he couldn't help but feel that Rimmer simply wasn't trying hard enough. He didn't even wear women's underwear (he knew this, having gone through Rimmer's underwear-drawer time and time again) which Lister was pretty certain was a prerequisite.

He laughed. The bastard laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure that's the problem, Lister." Turning back over and shaking his head, Rimmer fished out a music magazine from the folds of his dirty blankets, and chuckled to himself.

"At least I have a goal, Rimmer!" Lister felt his voice raising even higher, annoyingly. "At least I'm trying to do something with my death! I'm going to get Kochanski, and find a farm, and breed horses and cattle and sheep. What are you going to do, eh? Who are you going to spend the rest of your life with, once we get back to Earth?"

The magazine fell down to Rimmer's chest, and those lazy hazel eyes moved, slowly, in Lister's direction. "You know what else he told me?" He mumbled, not quite meeting Lister's stare.

"No. Do tell."

Rimmer whet his lips, for once, seemingly, without words. Then he did meet Lister's gaze, but could not hold it. His eyes dropped, as though looking for something they had lost on the floor. "Yeah, well..." He curled back up, hugging his magazine like some absurd stuffed toy. "Never mind, man. It's not important."


End file.
